Four Times Dying
by jscott1998
Summary: Remus Lupin knows death all too well.


The first time was in Godric's Hollow,and Remus Lupin felt as _grey_ as the sky above the damp graveyard. He watched as the bodies of Lily and James Potter were lowered into the ground, a shower of dirt scattering over the twin coffins. Neither Sirius nor Peter were answering any owls, and they weren't in their respective houses, either. That left the planning of the funeral to Remus, because there was no way that the Gryffindor brothers would leave the task to any other. It was hard, God it was so hard to choose which robe James would have liked best ( _just like back at school_ )and deciding whether Lily would look better with the emerald earrings, diamond necklace, or nothing but her wedding ring ( _she would have hated the necklace anyways, it was too extravagant for the muggleborn_ ) He thought about that night, last night, _the_ last night. Harry James Potter, the little boy with a mop of black hair that stuck up in random bunches and eyes the color of jade and emeralds and old glass bottles and a toothless smile that was as contagious as the flu, was shipped across the country and to the front door of Lily's magic-hating sister (Lily often told James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter about their arguments, which mainly ended up with Petunia calling Lily a freak) and her family. Nothing good could come from them, and he knew it. Why couldn't the boy go to Sirius Black, his godfather? Even Lucius Malfoy would be a better choice than a family of Muggles who wouldn't know a thing about how to raise a wizard.

The day passed in a haze of tear-saturated tissues and condolences hushed as though if they spoke too loudly, they would wake the dead out of their cold sleep. Remus figured it was useless to be quiet. He didn't, however, speak up about it. The silence comforted those who were grieving. Remus would go home and grieve on his own, in his own bed, letting loose all of the body-wracking sobs and inhuman screams of agony that he had to hold in. He had to be strong, be the rock that held the remaining Marauders together. He had to hold out, if only to let Sirius scream at the moon and to rub Peter's back when the loneliness came back too strong for him to push anymore. Remus took his agony and shoved it down as deep as he could. He just had to wait out the hurt, just like he had every month for as long as he could remember. He took a deep, shaking breath.

He would survive.

The second time was in the Head Auror's office, and Remus exploded in _red_. The man behind the ancient desk told Remus and Peter's mother of his demise, his announcement, and Sirius Black's deadly reaction. Wizards all across the Ministry of Magic could hear the explosion of creative curse words and screams from behind the shaking wooden door. Peter's mother was presented with all that was left of her son, as well as his Order of Merlin, First Class. Remus was presented with the realization that the boy he and the other boys (he would never use the nickname the **traitor** had given them again) had handed half of them over to Death's door, as well as a sense of betrayal from him indirectly taking all of Remus's happiness. He screamed at the Head Auror that he was wrong, Padfoot would never do that to James, _they were brothers_ , **_HE COULD NEVER HAVE HURT THE MAN HE CALLED HIS BROTHER!_** In the end, he was dragged away, still shouting as wails of anguish tore from his chest, clawed their way up his throat, and exploded out of the naturally calm, cool, and collected man. Many Ministry members had to look away from the scene, having gone to school with the quartet and subtly wiping at their own tears.

That night, Remus went home and burned everything he had that was Sirius's. His first scarf, the one Sirius **BLACK** won for him from a third-year when they first met? Into the fireplace. It was soon followed by old textbooks with silly doodles of stags and wolves and rats, letters, photos of the two friends, (but never the ones with James, Lily, or Peter- he just scratched _his_ face out with a quill) oversized shirts with Muggle and Wizard rock bands, jokes bought on a whim from Hogsmede, everything. He separated himself from the traitor as much as he could, but Azkaban just didn't seem far enough away. He let out a strangled cry before dropping to his knees in front of the noxious fire. He was the only one left. There were no more Marauders. It was just Remus Lupin, two ghosts, and a madman. There was no one to be strong for anymore.

A small movement caught his eye, from the stack of old photographs. Harry, the perfect miniature of James with the eyes of Lily, calculating and warm even at one year old. In the photo in question, he was riding a toy broom and he could just hear Lily telling James to be _careful, that was their son, not some Quittich toy! I know, Lily, I'm following him by a few inches! Geez, I know how to take care of a-_ _ **OH SH...OOT!**_ _Harry!_ and Remus smiled in spite of himself. There was still Harry. There was still some of the family he found at Hogwarts. And he had to be strong, for the little boy in the picture, so he could wait until he was older. Remus took his betrayal and his torment and shoved it down as deep as he could. He just had to wait out the hurt, like he had when his father left because he couldn't handle taking care of a werewolf. His hands shook as he pushed himself off of the faded rug.

He would survive.

The third time was in the Department of Mysteries, and it was just so _blue_. Remus had to hold back a screaming boy ( _because that's what Harry was, he was just a boy_ ) while he watched his best friend, his final Marauder, his _Padfoot_ be hit with a Stunner that pushed him beyond the Veil, beyond the land of the living. He had to hold on to Harry because while he was being held back to keep from running into the Veil after Sirius, Remus was holding on for the same reason. His hands eventually let go of the boy, and he charged off after Bellatrix, the murderer of Sirius, while Remus stayed behind to fight off any Death Eater not rushing to their Master's aid. There was a time and a place for grieving for lost souls, but this was not one of them. Not in the middle of a battle that could determine the fate of the Wizarding World. It seemed like every battle was like this, though. It could be the difference between a good man living, or an evil one dying.

After the last of Voldemort's followers had Disapparated, or were captured, Remus returned to Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He sat quietly on his bed, silently mourning the loss of his final friend. Tears slowly fell from his chin and onto the bed sheets, making the off-white color almost grey. There would be no funeral, as there was no body this time. There would be no graves for him or Harry to visit and mourn. When people would speak of Sirius Orion Black, it would be whispers of how he betrayed his best friend ( _not true, it was Pettigrew_ ), how he killed another ( _the bastard dug his own grave when he decided to work for Voldemort_ ), and how he was a crazed madman who just dropped off of the face of the Earth after escaping from Azkaban ( _he was never mad, he was just passionate_ ). No one outside of the Order would know what kind of a man he truly was, and it was a damned shame.

A horrible sound wrenched its way from his lungs and burst through his lips like a flood through a levee. If anyone had been there, they would have said it sounded like a dog had a child with a banshee, and the result was being operated on without anesthesia. A chair was thrown at the wall, crashing in a hailstorm of splinters, jagged pieces of wood, and metal screws tinkling to the floor. Aggressively pacing, Remus caught sight of himself in the mirror above the chest of drawers and burst into laughter. Looking back at him was a man with rumpled clothes, mussed up hair ( _you would think he was James, the amount of times he had run his hands through it since he returned_ ), trembling limbs, and wild eyes that showed nothing but regret. Sinking back onto the bed as his knees folded under him, his shoulders jerking with sobs, he tried to pull himself together. Now was not the time to mourn the dead: there would be time after the war. He had to be strong, for the memory of Sirius and the boy who had to grow up too fast. Remus took his grief and his hatred and his suffering and shoved it down as deep as he could. He just had to wait out the hurt, like he did when he was terrified that he wouldn't get into Hogwarts because he was bitten as a child. His legs shook as he walked out of the room with the broken chair and the pictures of his brothers hidden away in a drawer.

He would survive.

The fourth time was in the Battle of Hogwarts, and all anyone could see were endless flashes of _green_. Death Eaters were pouring out of every nook and cranny of the castle, and members of the Order and some Aurors were trying to keep up in numbers, but there were just too many. The dementors surrounded the stone walls, and Remus thought of his son, his little Teddy Lupin as he shouted " _Expecto Patronum!"_ with as much force as he could muster. A silvery wolf burst from the end of his wand and went to join the zoo of other Patroni, soon followed by what looked almost like a werewolf. He turned with a grin and looked at Tonks _Don't-Call-Me-Nymphadora_ Tonks. She grinned back for a second before rushing into the fray with her wand raised high. He was distracted for just a moment, thinking about how after this battle, they would go home to their son, and he would get the chance to grow up in a world where there was no fear of the name _Dark Lord_ or _Voldemort_.

Without warning, Remus felt something hit him in the back. It felt like something, yet nothing at the same time. The force behind that something-nothing knocked him forward a few steps. He stumbled as the world around him, filled with the sound of curses and hexes and Unforgivables and crashes of suits of armor and broken pieces of the proud walls, abruptly went silent. From somewhere behind him, he heard a voice he hadn't heard since that fateful Halloween, sixteen years ago.

"Hello, Moony."

Remus turned around, tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. Looking around, he noticed another him ( _or was it the same him? The real him?_ ) at his feet, laying unnaturally still. Standing farther back were James, Lily, and Sirius, looking only as old as their final day. For a few moments, none of them spoke. Then, Lily walked over to him and embraced him, much like she often would after a particularity bad full moon. "Remus, it's been so long," she breathed, her strangled voice struggling to say anything else. James stepped up and joined his wife, wrapping his arms around the two. Sirius quickly moved to the small group, the dead connecting among the dying.

Finally, James spoke up, his voice thick with gratitude. "Remus, thank you for taking care of Harry. Without you and Sirius, he would have never turned out to be who he is." The young man ( _why, why did he have to die so young? He was only twenty-one, he shouldn't of been murdered when he could have had years with his family_ ) gazed over the battleground that they all had called home at some point. His eyes zeroed in on his son, running across the Great Hall for some reason or another. "He would have never been able to find the strength he has now."

Remus smiled sadly, knowing that he had joined his friends at last, but knew that he had to leave his own son behind, as well as his young wife. He no longer had to be strong, he no longer had to anything but a memory. Remus Lupin took all of his pain and his joy and his regret and his freedom and let it overflow into a bubble of tragic laughter that was drawn up from the base of his lungs and fizzed up his throat and into the air of the dead around him. He no longer had to wait out the hurt, like when the Marauders took an oath to never stop being friends in their first year at the school and then they all slowly left. His smile shook as tears of triumph and sorrow streamed down his face.

He should have known he wouldn't survive.


End file.
